In 2013 at the age of 3, a Jack Russell named Friday, had unknowingly become family-less and within months...homeless. His owner, a friend of mine, had died from Cancer and even though her family promised to take him....didn't. Her children adored him and wanted the little character---but their father didn't. I scoured websites, grilled local residents, placed rescue ads, asked her friends....no one wanted the active, muscular, happy-go-lucky, professor like Mr. Friday. Until friends of her neighbors said there may be a home on the West Coast with a family of two other Jack Russell's. I was hopeful, but his mistrust of men and lingering fears, might pose a wedge between him and the caring couple.
Friday was standoffish and was ready to show his boyish, awkward domination with a few humps...but it didn't deter them. They had another corner of love in their heart to give this misunderstood mighty boy with a water obsession. During a week of visits.... I severed my emotional bonds so they could birth new ones. And alas he was on the seat of a 747 en route to his new home....where they could guide him, teach him, train him and patiently learn to know and understand his quirks and foibles. In the interim Friday has nuzzled his way into the hearts and lives of a forever family and has begun living his second chapter. ---R. B. STUART
Friday #3
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